Breaking the Silence
by brokenheartsandtwistedminds
Summary: Ziva was silent, in Somalia. She didn't make a sound. Now, she's back in America but she needs to let someone hear her, she needs help. She needs her father figure to hold her.


**Hi! This is me, back to fanfiction, with this brand new story. Or rather, oneshot. I'd like to mention now that touches on torture, among other things, and that I do not own NCIS. Thanks :3**

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><p>Ziva's experience in Somalia had been traumatic, to say the least; not only was she whipped and beaten, she was also the only woman in a 30 man camp, and she was damaged emotionally, a lot more than anything. The only touch she'd felt for several months had been cruel, if any at all. Having been back in the US for only a few days, her mind was still throwing the images back to her. Smelling the CAF!POW in Abby's lab, or even a recently fired weapon forced her thoughts back to Somalia. The shield she threw up from her Mossad training had stayed very firmly in place in the few days, and she spoke only very little. Words were revealing, and she wasn't ready to reveal anything, just yet. In Somalia she didn't speak. She didn't make a sound, even when the men did the cruellest things to her; really, it was a miracle when she was able to speak back to Tony when he came to rescue her.<p>

_To rescue her._

And McGee, and Gibbs. Gibbs. He had been the one to finish Saleem off, he was the one that finally killed Saleem. She felt a little resentment towards Gibbs, for killing the monster in such a painless way. She wished she could've been the one to do it, to be the one to force him to feel the pain that she, Ziva David, had felt over the span of a few months. She wished she could drag it out longer than that, for Saleem. Although, in reality, she knew owed a huge debt to Gibbs. The same for McGee, and Tony too.

But it was mostly Gibbs.

He had been there for her so many times, he had been the one to tell her what she was doing wrong, patiently, and he had been the one who had so delicately handled her when she was so, so weak. The love she felt for him when she saw him, draped in camouflage in the camp, was almost unbearable. The love she had never felt for her true father, for Eli David. In her eyes, he was nothing but a flesh relative, the kind that you see sometimes but don't know well enough to love. Gibbs, on the other hand, was her father. He was the one who would always be there to offer a shoulder, or an embrace. He wouldn't send her off on what she now knew to be a suicide mission in a hostile camp with the most hostile people; he would always have the best intentions for her wellbeing in mind, never thinking once about how it would benefit himself.

The dark-haired Israeli felt a little guilty for taking advantage of Gibbs' selflessness that night, but she could hardly control herself; before the thought had fully formed in her mind, _go and see Gibbs_, she was in her car and starting it up, mentally going over the directions to his house, hoping she could still remember them. But her photographic memory did not fail her, and she stared blankly ahead as she instinctively drove her vehicle to Gibbs' house. Upon arriving, she didn't feel herself walking to the door, but before she knew it, she was there, pushing down on the handle.

She began to doubt herself, walking into her boss's house and talking to him, of all people, about things she'd never even considered telling anyone else. She started to feel weak again. Her mask was slipping, her look of being 'just fine' was beginning to fade; her bottom lip started trembling and she hesitated for a moment. Could she let her boss see her like this?

But he wasn't just her boss, was he? He was her father figure.

Taking a moment to control herself, she walked through Gibbs' unlocked door, silently shutting it behind her. She knew what McGee and DiNozzo thought of her, that she was a ninja, but she didn't mean to be so silent in her actions. Like Gibbs, it was just in her nature. She navigated her way to Gibbs' basement, silently taking the steps down it and watching for a moment as he worked away at his boat, rubbing the sandpaper against its body in such a tender way that Ziva had a fleeting feeling that she was interrupting something by going down there. He moved his hand against the grain of the boat so softly, so lovingly, that the brown eyed girl felt a little pang of longing; hugs from Abby and McGee, pats on the head from Tony and a very brief hug from Gibbs couldn't compare to what she was witnessing.

"It's a bit late, Ziva," Gibbs stated, not in an irritated way, but more in a questioning way; his uncanny ability to listen to his gut always impressed Ziva, as she sometimes found it hard. His gut feelings were almost always correct, and clearly he had a gut feeling that Ziva would show up, tonight. "Do you need something?" His tone was so gentle, and she felt a tear prick to her eye, and she blinked it away quickly; she wasn't sure why she had come to Gibbs' basement, but she didn't think it was to cry. Not yet, anyway.

She walked down and over to an empty stool, crumpling onto it as though she could no longer hold her body weight, and sensed Gibbs walking over to see what was wrong. "Yes." She stated, a little surprised to be hearing her own voice. Gibbs tilted his head to the side, questioning, and poured a drink for the two of them. He then proceeded to look at Ziva, properly, like McGee and Tony and Abby and Ducky and Palmer hadn't done since she'd returned. She felt her resolve crumple like the paper balls she'd once enjoyed throwing at Tony, and her eyes filled with tears. "Help me, Gibbs," she said, voice cracking and she let out a sob, burying her face in her hands. Why had she decided to do this? Gibbs, surely, wouldn't care for her, no one would, she didn't deserve them and-

"Hey, come here," Gibbs said, softly, standing up and pulling himself and Ziva over to the lone bench in his basement. Once upon a time, she would've found this bench incredibly uncomfortable, but after all she'd been through in Somalia-

_Somalia._ It was the first time she'd thought the word since she'd entered Gibbs' house, and she felt all the memories she'd been repressing suddenly hitting her like a train, and she began to cry, the tears streaming down her face and into her open mouth as Gibbs put his comforting arms around her, holding her together like she knew she could never do herself, much as she was already trying; her arms were wrapped around her own knees in an attempt to comfort herself, but to no avail. She gave up on that, and instead melted into Gibbs' firm grip. His strong arms encircling her gave her a feeling of safety like none other, like he felt the same way about her that she did about him, like there was a family bond between them, like there was somebody out there that truly cared for her. As if he'd been reading her mind, he murmured into her ear; "We care about you Ziva, we love you, you're home now, you're _safe…"_

A memory suddenly gripped her, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it, letting out a quiet yelp as she remembered the burning hot poker that Saleem enjoyed using against her so much. She had come to realise over the summer that it was his very favourite tool, because even the very smallest pressure against bare skin would cause anybody to cry out in pain; even Ziva, with her strict Mossad training, found it hard to contain herself when she even saw the thing. As a result, she had the fireplace taken out of her house and anything that looked like it could conduct heat well tortured Ziva with its presence. This particular memory had been the worst of all, she thought. The first time he'd brought out the mechanism, and the Israeli hadn't even considered it a threat, until he branded her with his very own mark.

She was pulled back into the present by Gibbs' fingers unknowingly brushing the spot of burned skin, and she let out a something between a scream and a wail as a silent tear fell from Gibbs' eye, feeling the distinct S shape on her neck, and wanting to bring back Saleem from the dead and brutally murder him over and over again, as half of compensation of what he'd done to his baby girl. _His._ Gibbs felt suddenly helpless as his hands could feel no place where they could rest on Ziva without causing her immense pain, and he could only watch as Ziva tried so hard not to yell in pain, knocking his arm out the way as her only defence, leaving her looking all of a sudden very vulnerable with a tear-stained, dirty face, collapsing in on herself like a corpse. A few minutes passed and Ziva calmed slightly, crying in earnest again, her sobs sounding shallow and weak. Gently, he reached out and pulled her back towards him, watching as she shook in his arms once more. "_Help me, Gibbs," _She murmured, again, soft as a whisper. _"Help me."_ With a final, resounding sob, her head fell on his shoulder and she trembled silently. Gibbs felt a small piece of his heart break as he watched her fall apart, bit by bit.

"Ziva? Ziva," Gibbs whispered; "Ziva, I know you don't want help. I know it's embarrassing, I know it is," he added, as he felt her stir a little against him, "but this is PTSD. I don't know what you went through in that hellhole, I don't think I want too." He couldn't help but frown as all the methods of torture he knew about, read about, seen, and imagined them done repeatedly over three months. "Ziva," she shifted, uncomfortable. "Please. _I'm begging you._ I'll go with you. I'll help you. I love you, Ziva, we all do, we all care for you, so, so much, Ziva." He resumed his hopefully soothing hum into her ear, hoping to reassure her into a sleep without nightmares, as he doubted she'd experienced for a while. However, it took a long time for her to reach this, for it seemed she'd suddenly remember something and she'd start sobbing quietly into his shoulder, Gibbs putting his arms around her once more, as she seemed most comfortable that way. Cautiously trying to find a spot where Saleem's men hadn't damaged, he eventually found one just below her elbow, now bony from 3 months of malnutrition, and he rubbed circles into it with his thumb, desperately trying to soothe the sobbing wreck in his arms. She shifted her head so it was leaning closer to his head, he enclosed her two hands within one of his and placed it on his knee, all the while keeping up his constant hum of telling Ziva how much she was loved and cared for and how safe she was, keeping this on a loop until eventually she went limp and dropped into a restful sleep. Wrapping an arm around her stomach and her waist, he held her there, afraid that if he moved, she'd wake up and not get back to sleep again. After letting out a three month silence through strangled cries and sobs, he imagined she'd become quite restless; he would wait until that happened, and then he would carry her through to the guest room. Until then, he decided, he would keep watch over her, her guardian angel, as it were. Her saviour. _How fitting._ He just hoped it would be enough to nurse Ziva back into a state of mental health. Almost, anyway. The physical scars would heal, eventually, but he didn't know about anything else.

He closed his eyes, and gently brushed his lips against her head, sighing as he realised the abysmal number of showers she'd had since returning. He could smell on her that she hadn't showered in days, and he couldn't blame her. If the gentlest of touches caused her pain, he couldn't imagine what standing under hot water was like. He remembered the trouble he had given the nurses after Desert Storm, they were lucky to get him to shower once every few weeks. He had stunk out the entire ward, but showering was one of the most painful things he'd experienced. He couldn't imagine magnifying that pain in any way, in the ways the Ziva must be experiencing. As though she'd heard her name in his thoughts, her head tilted up, and she moaned, pained, as the movement stretched a scar.

Who was he kidding? He didn't even know if the physical scars would heal. But Ziva was the strongest person Gibbs had ever had the honour of meeting, and he knew, with guidance, that she would get through this. She _had _too.


End file.
